Lion's Head
by SoulStormAddict
Summary: Rated T for some violencernA young woman wakes up on an operation table, but has no clue who she is, or why she is there... and how can she press buttons on the other side of a barrier...?


**February 11, 2005**

"_What do you think they are gonna do with this one?"_

"_How am I supposed to know?"_

"_I don't know… but what do you think?"_

"_They are going to implant a microchip that makes her dance the Macarena when ever someone says 'Coney Dog.'"_

"_Ha ha, very funny. But seriously, they aren't going to hurt her will they?"_

"_They found this one snooping around the facility up in Russia, technically she was trespassing and they _should_ kill her. Hey Doc, you ready for another one?"_

"_Of course I am! Why else would I have allowed you in here? Scram you two."_

"_Geez, now I see why doctors and scientists get such a bad rap."_

"_Go back to your posts or I'll poison you."_

"_What a wacko, I hope she wakes up and kills him."_

When the young lady came to, she nearly fell off of the observation table that she was lying on. She started to sit up, but couldn't with all of the IV and monitoring tubes that were hooked up to her. Once she had pulled out the drips and the electrodes she sat up and swung her feet around to the side of the table. She slid off of the table and down onto the floor, which felt as cold as the metal on the inside of a refrigerator. She put a hand up to her throbbing head and looked around the room only to find that she was in a completely white room with a large glass partition in the middle. There was a single knob less-door in the middle of the glass and there were computers and desks on the other side of the glass. She tried to call out to see if anyone was there, but all that escaped her throat was a hoarse croak. She slid across the room searching the glass for an exit until she noticed a peculiarity about the wall on the other side of the room. Instead of being completely white and metallic like the other three walls, it was mirrored, and in this mirror she could see a large, green button on the little stand to the right of the door on the other side of the glass. The girl concentrated on the button and tried to think of a way to press it, for it would surely open the door. Then, the button spontaneously started to shimmer, like when heat rises off of asphalt during July, and then sink into the stand. The door then slid open with a whirring sound and her head snapped to see it open. She thought to herself, "_what in the world… how did that just happen?" _

She then proceeded to creep out of the small part of the room with the table and cords and into the part with the machines. She looked around at the computer monitors only to find that they were all shut off. She looked to the mirror on the wall, and she searched her body with her eyes. She was about five-eight, looked like she weighed 135 pounds. She had short hair that was as dark as coal and electric blue eyes. She was wearing a white tank top and fatigues that went just past her knees that showed off a firm, athletic body. Both the shirt and shorts were covered in holes and dark red stains.

A shout that came from the open doorway to her right snapped her from her observations. When she turned she was face to face with a portly security guard with a raised pistol.

"Get down on the ground! Now!" he shouted at her. She hesitated and began to step towards the man but was stopped short. A blast from the pistol had knocked her backwards and on to the ground. She fell onto her side and realized that she had been shot in the stomach. She closed her eyes against the searing pain tried as hard as possible to maintain consciousness. When the guard, who was quite obviously very green for getting over excited and discharging his weapon, ran over to her to see if she was ok, but when he got there, she was ready for him. She whipped over onto her back and stuck her foot out, which caught his foot and caused him to tumble. As he fell forwards, she rolled back over to the side and he fell flat on his stomach. Before he could bring his arms back under himself, she had leapt on top of him and grabbed him by the hair. She then slammed his face into the cold, metal floor rendering him unconscious.

In exhaustion, she fell back onto her rear up against a wall and looked down to her stomach. There was a small red patch of fresh blood around the wound that growing rapidly. But, astoundingly, the bullet rose out of its hole and fell down onto the floor with a clang and a small splatter of gore. The bullet wound miraculously stopped bleeding and closed almost instantaneously, leaving only a miniscule mark that soon faded. The girl stared at her stomach blankly, hardly believing what had just occurred. She felt the area where she had been shot, but it was just as it looked, only a small hole in her shirt surrounded by wet blood. She shook her head, deciding that she would ponder it later and looked over to the man she had knocked out. She flipped him over and examined the nametag that had been clipped onto his shirt. It had his name, a picture and a small barcode on it. The girl ripped the nametag off and continued down the hallway, away from the room was in previously.

As she paced down the narrow hallway, she noticed an elevator that had a sticker on it that read, "To Main Lobby," and decided on heading down there. She slid the stolen nametag into the small slot beside the elevator and with a click, the door opened. She stepped into the elevator and sat down in a corner.

"What in the world is going on?" she asked herself, "Where am I?" She gritted her teeth in frustration, "and why can't I remember anything?" The girl bowed her head and noticed a small band that rounded her left ankle. She turned it and realized that it was a hospital band, but when she looked at the nametag she had nicked from the guard she realized that it wasn't. On the side opposite his information there was an insignia with the words "SynCo" written in white lettering over a black diamond. When she looked back to the anklet inspected the type on it. All it said was "Smith, Claire" and the small SynCo logo.

"Claire Smith," the she thought to herself, "that must be my name. But, how come I didn't remember…" her contemplation was interrupted by a sharp pain that surged through her body. It felt like a lightning bolt had leapt up her spine and into her brain. Everything started to go black as the floor rushed up to meet her falling face.

**January 5th, 2005**

Dear Journal,

Sorry I haven't written in so long, I've been really busy with my extra training. I can't believe all of the crap the SEAL's have to go through, all of the running, the swimming, the weight lifting, the swimming, the studying, the swimming, the combat maneuvers and the swimming gets to be a little ridiculous. I just wanted to go to college for free, and I got a little carried away with my patriotism. I signed up for the medical division and my recruiter suggested that I should see if the SEAL's would take me because of all the med classes I took in college and all of the sports I was in. It sounded good at first, but now… holy cow is it hard! I should look at the bright side though, right? I have to do less stuff than we did in basic training, and I haven't had to go anywhere yet (knock on wood!) I just hope it stays nice and calm like this for as long as possible.

Another good thing is that I have some pretty nice people in my squad. There is Carlos Sandoval, a big Hispanic guy who is from California. He is the team's heavy weapons tech. He doesn't speak much, so I can't tell you much about his personality save the fact that he is quiet (duh). There is Samantha Lockheart, our personal sniper. She is pretty calm and serious most of the time, which is somewhat of a surprise considering she is from Boston. She's also supposed to be quite the math whiz, which would make sense, considering she is a sniper. We have the funny little Connor O'Neal, who got into the program because he was so good at swimming and he loved the military. He says that he wanted to be a SEAL since he was little, and that he always wanted to blow things up. Guess he got his wish because he is the squad's demolition expert. He's so cute when he setting up C4's to blow up train tracks or bridges. Our squad leader is Ed Norris, a tough talking Texan with little resilience for crap when it comes to training or anything that even has to do with a mission. A little uptight, but he's a nice guy off the battlefield, I even played cards with him, Carlos, and Connor. The squad may be a little diverse, but there is one prominent black sheep amongst us. His name is Chris Matthews. I haven't ever heard him talk to anyone, pretty weird if I do say so myself. He usually just stands there in silence and just watches things happen. Maybe he is just nervous, I didn't have training with him, and I don't see him much anyways so I assume that he is just really quiet.

Well, I have to go do some pushups so, I'll write later when I have the time.

Claire

**February 11, 2005**

As Claire regained consciousness, she brought her hands underneath her chest and lifted herself up off the cold metal floor of the elevator.

"What was that? I was a SEAL? In the medical division? How come I didn't remember that before I passed out, but now I do?" she asked herself as the elevator slid down to the first floor.

When it found its way to the bottom, the doors slid open with a shrill _ding_, and Claire stuck her head out to scan the new area. The lobby looked more like a waiting room with several rows of benches and even a desk and computer, complete with a goon to run it. The security officer looked back at the elevator but Claire and retracted her head so he wouldn't notice her. Claire waited several moments and crept out into the lobby. She then tiptoed over to him. He was busy with his computer, so probably wouldn't notice her even if she was loud, but she didn't want to risk it. Claire then hit him hard in a pressure point on his back about halfway between his shoulder and neck with the palm of her hand and he was out cold.

Although she caught him before he hit the ground, a small yelp he produced when she stuck him brought another guard walking into the room with his firearm raised. Claire, luckily, heard his footsteps as he scuttled down the hall so she whipped around to the side of the desk opposite the doorway that he had entered. The guard scanned the room and then ran over to the elevator, which had just then closed. He slammed on the button to call it back down and fidgeted anxiously. Claire stood up and turned her thoughts to the gun the man was holding in his right hand. She focused all of her mind on the handgun and it started to shimmer, just like the button by where she woke up. She then imagined the pistol flying from the man's grasp and into her's, and it did just that. She lifted the gun up and as the man turned to see where his weapon had gone she growled, "Make a noise, and you'll be leaving here in a body bag. Where can I find out about the people that you are confining here?" The man raised his arms and muttered,

"There is a report room down that hall," he motioned in the direction he came in with his head, "It's three doors down and to the right."

While the guard was informing her, she slowly walked closer and closer to him, so that, by the time he had finished, she was only several feet away from him. She gave him a simple, "Thanks," and put him out with a pistol whip to the side of his head.

Claire moved over to the hallway described by the guard and peeked around the corner. The hallway stretched about twenty yards, and about fifteen yards away, a guard stood, with his back to Claire. There was also a small closet about five yards away from her on the other side of the hallway that read, "Maintenance," and a water cooler a little farther than that.

With the sentry still facing the other way, Claire bolted across the hallway and into the janitor's closet, scarcely making a sound. As Claire entered the closet a jolt of pain shot up her leg. When she looked down to see what happened, she realized that she had stepped on a rake. Claire rolled her eyes and thought to herself, "Fighting without shoes lacks a certain dignity, but at least it helps me remain quiet."

Claire reopened the door just a crack, and peered out into the hall. The man was getting some water from the cooler, and a plan found its way into Claire's mind. She focused her concentrated on the top part of the water cooler, the blue tank that holds all of the water. She lifted it up, and shook it violently, which frightened the guard. In his terror, he took off down the hall towards Claire, whom was just barley peeking out of the janitor's closet. A split second before he reached the door, Claire thrust out an arm and clotheslined the guard. With lighting fast reflexes, she slammed her fingers into a pair of pressure points of the man's neck. With a slight gasp, the man stiffened up, then relaxed and was off into the calm world of unconsciousness.

Claire shoved the man into the janitor's closet and continued down the hall, scanning the little placards on the doors. When she found the "Reports Room" she peeped into the room, scanning it for more guards. Luckily for them, there were none to be found. The room had white walls like the hallway, but they were lined with polished, white file cabinets. It also had dark gray carpets instead of the cold metallic floors, and there were also desks lined up periodically in the room.

Claire strode over to the file cabinets and searched for the one labeled "S." When she found it, Claire pulled it out and sifted through the files until she found what she was looking for.

**Personnel File- Smith, Claire**

**Name: Claire Smith**

**Date of Birth: 12/29/81**

**Height: 5'8"**

**Weight: 133 lbs**

**Hair: Black**

**Eyes: Blue**

**(picture unavailable)**

**Status: Incarcerated- SynCo Research Facility**

**Note: Former US Navy SEAL; Participant**

**in Project "Firestorm"**

Claire took all of the information in and pondered it for a second. She then worked her way over to the "F" files, and pulled out another sheet of paper.

**Project Firestorm**

**Top Secret US Navy SEAL's mission**

**Locale: Bio/Nuclear Weapons facility sixty **

**(60) miles south of Anadyr, Russia**

**Participants-Lockheart, Samantha- Deceased**

**Sandoval, Carlos- Deceased**

**Norris, Edward- Deceased**

**O'Neal, Connor- Deceased**

**Smith, Claire- Incarcerated**

**Matthews, Christopher- Incarcerated **

Almost immediately after she finished reading the paper, felt a surge of pain course through her body. It felt almost as if someone had stuck a taser in her back, right at the base of her spine, and the electricity climbed up her spine and into her brain.

"_Not again!_" she thought as her knees gave out and she went crumpling like a house of cards to the ground.

**January 5th, 2005**

Claire had just finished etching her thoughts into her journal, when there was a pounding on the door to her small room.

"You need to be in Presentation Room number Four at 08:00 hours. This is a command from Captain Norris. I guess they're finally shipping us out," notified Connor from behind the door. Claire assumed the reason he didn't just come in, was because it was early in the morning and she might not have been dressed, which was a somewhat accurate assumption.

Claire stole a glance at the tiny clock sitting on her miniscule desk and rolled her eyes with frustration at the realization that she had five minutes to get down to the presentation room and she wasn't even dressed for a briefing. She hastily threw off the sweat pants she was wearing and slid on some fatigues over her legs and the muscle shirt she had slept in. She donned her boots and laced them quickly. Without even bothering to brush her hair or her teeth she grabbed her camouflaged cap and dashed out of her cabin.

When she finally got to the presentation room, the briefing had already started. Captain Norris stood in front of a whiteboard with a map being projected across its face, and small circles and arrows sketched by the bright red dry-erase marker that Norris was holding.

"You are late Smith, do not let it happen again. Take a seat," said the captain sternly, motioning to the ovular table where all of the other members of the team were sitting. Chris was standing up against the wall in complete silence, and Samantha was rolled her eyes. Carlos pulled out a seat between he and Connor, who was trying, poorly, but trying to restrain his laughter. Claire threw herself into the chair and shot a glance of pure venom at Connor.

"Our mission will be provide ground recon of an old weapon research facility in northeastern Russia. We have known of its existence since the beginning of the Cold War, but we were surprised to have thermal traces coming off of the building even though it was shut down when the war ended. We don't know whether the government is involved or if it is just a private company, but the reopening of a chemical and nuclear weapons facility is a somewhat disconcerting, is it not?" asked Norris.

"Our insertion point will be here," informed the captain, pointing a small X on the map, "and our headquarters will be established here," now pointing at an even small square.

"That is all. Any questions?" he asked, but to no response, "Good. All of you are to go to the north hanger and board Pelican number 265 at 21:20 hours tonight. We will take off at 21:30 and will arrive at the drop zone at estimated 23:48. Dismissed."

**February 11, 2005**

Claire's eyes slid back open, as she found herself lying on the heinous gray carpet. She sat up and thought to herself, "What in the world is going on? What are these flashbacks about?" She pounded her fist on the floor in frustration, but slowly sank into silent, lonely tears. She cried about not being able to understand her flashbacks, she cried about not being able to understand why she woke up connect to all sorts of monitors and computers and she cried about not being able to understand what she was supposed to do. After a few moments of melancholic self-pity, Claire gritted her teeth and wiped the tears from her face. She refocused herself and decided that all she could do is try to find out where Chris Matthews was being held captive, for he was the only person who could tell her about her past. She searched the cabinets for the letter "M" and soon found his personal file.

**Personnel File- Matthews, Christopher**

**Name: Christopher Matthews**

**Date of Birth: 10/01/78**

**Height: 6'1"**

**Weight: 193 lbs**

**Hair: Brown**

**Eyes: Green**

**(picture unavailable)**

**Status: Incarcerated- St. Paul's Hospital; Locked Mental Ward**

**Note: Former US Navy SEAL; Participant**

**in Project "Firestorm"**

As she looked up from the paper she saw the reflection of a man sneaking towards her. In an instant, she extended her right leg and turned with amazing speed, effectively sweeping the man right off of his feet. She leapt forwards onto him grabbed him by the throat.

"Where is St. Paul's hospital?" she snarled as her fingers tightened around his neck.

The guard stammered for a moment and gasped, "I don't know!" Claire rolled her eyes and swiftly brought her forehead down onto his with a sharp crack. The man's eyes closed halfway and he stopped struggling.

Claire left the room and walked back out into the hallway. She stepped out several paces behind a janitor that was slightly shorter than she. She snuck after him as he headed down the hallway and into the men's room. She continued to follow him, making sure she didn't touch the door as to remain silent. She was just about to grab him, when he slipped in a tiny slick of water and fell into a sink headfirst. The man slunk to the floor and Claire chuckled to herself thinking, "Funny, this is the first person I have ever met that has knocked himself out for me."

Claire strolled over to the man and pulled him into the farthest stall from the door, locking the door behind her. She disrobed the man, only his shirt, pants and shoes, and put them on herself. She then shuffled through the pockets in the jeans and the shirt and finds only lint, a wallet and keys. Claire undid the car keys from the ring and dropped it down onto the floor, not wanting to keep the man out of his house until he could get another key. She also dropped the wallet, only after taking a twenty just in case she might need it.

Claire glanced out of the door, making sure that no one was coming, and left the restroom. She started to walk down the hallway, away from the lobby whence she came, until a burly black man dressed in a suit stepped out in front of her. He was wearing completely darkened sunglasses and a small earpiece. Claire's eyes widened and her pulse was hammering away in her ears. She almost kicked herself when she realized that suddenly turning away would definitely give her away, and what if that man wasn't looking for her? She had to do something quickly as they grew closer and closer.

"Do you know where the parking lot is?" Claire managed to choke out as the man reached her, while she covered up the "Chuck" nametag on her chest by crossing her arms.

"It's down the hall behind me, where it says exit in big red letters," he replied in a baritone voice with a taste of sarcasm as an eyebrow shot up from his sunglasses, as if to see what kind of idiot was propose such a ridiculous question.

He lifted his specs and traced Claire's left leg, all the way down to her ankle and the incriminating band that peeked out over the stolen shoes. The man's eyes whipped back up to meet Claire's. She simply smiled a sweet smile and fired a knee into his stomach, effectively pounding his solar plexus. Before the giant fell to his knees, Claire was already around him and was flying off down the hall to the exit. She grew closer and closer to the shiny steel door when a large boom resounded through the hall. Claire couldn't help but yelp as the .35 caliber piece of metal ruptured through her shoulder blade. She flung open the door, and began to sprint out to the parking lot, but not before the man-mountain shot another speck of white hot metal through the door and into her waist.

Claire squinted in the noonday sun as she scanned the full parking lot for the car the matched the keys she had, that is, until she realized she had a remote for the car. Claire ripped the car keys out of her pocket and mashed the panic button on the remote part of the key. A car on the right side of the parking lot lit up and started to wail. Claire dashed as fast as her hip would allow her, and reached the cars in a matter of a moment.

Claire was fast, but the mountainous agent was faster. As Claire made her way into the parking lot, the windshield of a brand new Cadillac she was running by exploded under the force of speeding metal. The agent continued the rain of bullets on Claire until she reached the green Toyota Echo that the keys she held belonged to. A pair of them actually hit her, one in the shoulder, almost knocking her down, and one in calf.

When Claire got to the car, she hit the "unlock" button on the remote and flung open the passenger side door. Claire shot into the vehicle, sliding quickly over the stick shift and into the driver's seat. She jammed the key into the ignition as a bullet punched a quarter-sized hole in the front windshield. The engine started to whir into life, but it stalled.

"Come on! Work dammit!" she commanded as she turned the key again. The engine groaned and started to sputter, but amazingly kicked into life, with a triumphant roar.

"Yes!" Claire shouted as she pumped her arm in success. Her victory dance was cut short though as a bullet pounded through the windshield and right by her ear. Claire slid down into the seat and pushed the gas pedal to the floor. The tires bit the ground and Toyota whipped out of the parking lot and into the street. Claire guided the car back and forth through the street and zipped past a slow moving station wagon. She neared a set of streetlights and spun the steering wheel sharply to the right power slid into the intersection, barely missing a pickup truck traveling down the road. With nigh perfect timing, she slammed back down on the gas, making a flawless powerslide, and shot off down the street.

Her eyes were scanning both sides of the road, trying to find a suitable hiding place, when she spotted an open parking garage. She pulled in, checking in her rearview mirror for pursuers, and went to the lowest level of the garage. She found a parking space and pulled in.

Claire turned her attention to the four bullet wounds in her body. Just like they had done before, when Claire concentrated on the bullets in her flesh, they slid out and the wounds closed up. With a sigh of relief, she dropped her head back onto the rest and pulled the lever to drop the back of the seat downwards.

For a second, she thought she was going to actually have a nice peaceful sleep until the familiar feeling of electricity running through her back returned.

"What else do I expect?" she thought as her vision slowly darkened and she lost her grip on reality.

**January 5th, 2005**

It was nine in the evening, as Claire suited up for the mission. She thought to herself, "I can't believe it! We're going on a mission, to Russia. Russia! Why did they have to pick Russia of all of the places on earth?" as she put on her astoundingly white pants and coat over her specially made undershirt and shorts. The underwear would keep her warm even though it was extremely cold in Russia, especially in the winter.

She also slipped her feet into socks made of the special _Thermawear_ material the composed her underclothing. "Stupid Russia, stupid crazy people. I can't believe it," she repeated to herself as she laced the tall white boots and stuffed her hair under a snow pitched cap that would keep her head dry.

Claire trudged down the hall and into the hanger where most of the team was finishing their personal preparations. Samantha was making sure that the scope on her Barrett .50 cal was sighted correctly and Carlos was fitting the bleached bandoliers of ammunition to his body. Connor was playing a Game-Boy; he had just got the new "Metroid" game and was completely obsessed with it. Claire's eyes shifted over to Chris who was leaning against the Pelican, arms crossed and head down.

Ed walked up to her and handed her a large backpack that was stuffed with survival equipment and muttered under his breath, "On time for once at least."

He turned to the rest of the troops and announced with a commanding voice, "Board up guys, we leave in a few minutes."

Claire nodded and lifted her snow-camouflaged hat to her head and unclipped the M4 that was attached to the backpack Norris had given her and slung the strap around her shoulder. She lifted the heavy sack and heaved it up onto her back, clipping the buckles in the front.

The back end of the Pelican drop-ship opened up and lowered down, creating a ramp up into the belly of the metal beast. Chris picked up his bag and was the first into the drop-ship, followed closely by Samantha and Carlos. Claire took a deep breath and stepped up into the opened plane.

There were two parallel benches that stretched almost the whole length of the plane. There were also three two seated snowmobiles that were modified for the mission. They had put in an extra quiet engine and a top-notch muffler so that the noise from the snowmobile wouldn't give the squad away. The vehicle had also been painted white with little gray splotches on it, just like the snow colored camouflage the rest of the team was wearing. Claire sat down across from Connor and Carlos who were in a heated debate on whether or not the Suns are better than the Lakers.

Claire just sat their smiling at the two's pointless bickering because she was partial to neither team, but the Pistons instead, when a cold hand grasped her shoulder. When she spun around to see who it was, she was somewhat surprised to see Christopher staring at her sternly.

"We need to talk," he simply whispered and walked out of the cargo bay of the aircraft and into the next room. Claire thought about it for a second and came to the conclusion that he was sincere and worth paying attention to. She rose from her seat and went through the door that he did.

Claire stepped into the mechanical room and saw Chris sitting on a large fuel pump, looking down at his shoes. The enclosure was darker than the cargo room and was rank with gasoline and oil. She leaned up against a nearby wall, looked Chris in the eye and asked, "Why did you want me to come back here."

Without looking up he inquired, "You know much about the human mind, do you not."

Claire nodded, "I am neurosurgeon, so I guess you could say I do. Why?"

"The normal human being's corpus callosum is somewhat like a road between the two halves of their brain, allowing them to communicate right?"

"True," she nodded again.

"Although most human's corpus callosum is somewhat like a dirt road, not developed as it could in theory, but some have one that is more like and eight lane superhighway, correct?"

"Where are you going with this?"

"I will show you," he whispered as he rose from the pump and pulled his combat knife from his belt. It was a customized knife that had the head of a lion's head etched into the hilt.

"Wait a sec… what are you doing…?"

"Hold still," he commanded as he grabbed her hand with astounding strength and pulled up the sleeve. Claire tried to pull away but Chris was shockingly strong considering his thin, almost malnourished, figure. He took the custom blade and cut a small line on her hand. All Claire could do was emit a small yelp as she saw her hand close back up and the cut completely vanish.

"You are one of those people. I am too. That is why I could tell that you could do such things as this. This is your gift. You also have another. Have you ever done something you can't really explain, like cause someone to trip without sticking your foot out, or touch something without even coming near it?"

Claire was stunned, "Yes, I have. When I was nine, I went to a party at my friend's house. We were out by the pool they had in their backyard. Her older brother was picking on her and I found myself getting really angry with him, and thinking how good it would feel if I could just walk up and push him into the pool. Then, all of a sudden, he stepped backwards away from his sister as if someone shoved him, and then he fell into the pool. You are saying that was me?"

"Yes I am," he assured with a nod. "And I am also saying that you could do it again if you were put in a situation like that. You were defending your friend, and you came to her aid. Not with your fists, but with you mind."

Claire looked down at her shoes. The room remained silent for several long moments until she spoke.

"What does this mean? Why are you telling me this?" she asked, remaking eye contact with Chris.

"So that I can show you this," he said taking a step closer to Claire. Chris raised his hand up to Claire's cheek and touched her lightly with his fingers. Claire's eyes rolled back into her head as an explosion of color ripped through her brain.

**February 11, 2005**

Claire jolted up from the seat, smacking her head on the top of the car on accident. She rubbed her head to try and reduce some of the pain.

"I have to find Chris. The paper said that he is at St. Paul's hospital… where is that?" She looked around the car for a map or something when her eyes fell on a blue button on the dash about the breadth of one's thumb. It was an On button. A smile spread across her face as she pressed it.

"This is OnStar, how can I help you?" the faceless voice asked.

"Do you know where St. Paul's hospital is?"

"Of course we do. The first thing you need to do is get out of the parking garage that you are in. Then you need to turn left down 7th, and then right on Williams's road and you will go right by it. Got that?" the woman on the other end inquired.

"Yes, thank you very much," Claire replied wearing a smile from ear to ear.

Claire eased the car out of the garage and into the street. She then turned down Williams just as the OnStar lady had instructed and she eventually came up to the hospital. She pulled into the parking lot and parked the car.

As Claire made her way into the hospital, she ripped off the nametag that still clung to her chest and ran her fingers through her hair, hoping to straighten it out somewhat. Claire walked up to the receptionist who was sitting behind a computer, typing away.

"Do you know where the psych ward is? I need to see my brother, he's a little loopy," she asked, lowering her voice towards the end of the sentence.

"You see that big plaque right there, that has the directions of all the different departments," the receptionist answered without removing her eyes from the computer screen.

"Thanks," replied Claire, rolling her eyes at the receptionist's apathy. She walked down the hallway to the large placard that bore arrows pointing towards all of the different areas of the hospital. Her eyes scanned the list, running right past Cath Lab, Cafeteria, Emergency Room, Operating Room, Outpatient Care and others until she found what she was looking for, Mental Disability Ward.

Claire traced her way through the halls and found herself in the mental ward. The room was ovular, with rooms all the way around it with a little nurse's center in the middle. She walked to the counter and spied the charts that were arranged on the counter. Claire skimmed through them until she found Chris's. She picked it up and walked over to a nearby nurse.

"Hello, I am Jennifer Stephens from the National Institute of Mental Health, I am here to do a piece on a Christopher Matthews. I hear that he has some very interesting theories about a technology company, SynCo, as my report says," Claire stated in a very official tone while flipping through the charts. According to the doctors, Matthews suffered from acute schizophrenia and paranoia.

The nurse looked at her blankly and sat there staring at her for a moment until he walked over to a doctor. He relayed the information that Claire had just given him and the doctor looked up from the charts that he was filling out. He nodded to Claire and went back to his business. The nurse walked back over and said, "If you will follow me," as he moved across the room. "You are probably already aware that Chris is under the influence of schizophrenia and he is somewhat paranoid, so he is currently wearing a straight jacket. However, we suggest caution in approaching him, for he isn't wearing a bite mask because we haven't had any problems with him before. Just be careful, ok? There is also a panic button by the door that will cause an alarm to go off and we'll come help you. Any questions?" Claire shook her head and walked into the chamber.

The room was almost completely bare, save a small bed and a barred window. Chris was sitting on the bed looking at the floor.

"Yes?" he muttered as she walked into the room.

"Chris, its me Claire," she announced as she took a few steps closer to him. Chris looked up and smiled to her.

"I was wondering when you would arrive."

"You knew I would come here?"

"Of course I did. Do remember when you were on the airplane and I was showing you your powers?"

Claire raised an eyebrow, "Yes actually, I do."

"I know so much about advanced homo-sapiens because I am one. My mind has developed to see things that have happened before us, and things that haven't yet come to pass. When I touched you, I displayed a premonition of mine in your brain."

"Wait a second, a premonition?" she asked, hardly believing her ears.

"Well, actually a glance into a separate universe. Every time someone makes a decision, there are two or more possible outcomes, and for every outcome, there is a separate universe. For example, in one universe, you didn't knock out a janitor named Charles, but in this one you did," he explained. Claire had heard of this idea before, the existence of multiple universes existing parallel to each other, but she had never really given it much thought.

"There is something else I need to show you," Chris informed. Suddenly, his face turned bright red, and the veins in his neck and forehead bulged. Claire could only stare as he ripped his arms right out of the straight jacket. He stood up and pulled a small laptop computer out from under his mattress.

"Wait a second, how did you get that in here?" Claire asked.

A smile crept across Chris's face.

"Well, I have a relative control over the premonition when I show it to someone else. I can't really change the course of events, but I can do things like bringing a computer into this world that would normally be nonexistent. I just have to be careful how much I manipulate the premonition, because every time a make a change, I have to hold an image of it in my brain. As we have discussed before, our type of brains can hold _lots_ of information, but if I try to hold too much, I can cause a cerebral overload and the premonition will be lost, causing severe damage to my brain and to the brain of the person I am transmitting the premonition to. That is also why you have a hard time bringing together memories, because I can only hold onto a few in my thought process," he explained, "Is this all making sense?"

Claire paused for a moment, taking all of the information in, "Yeah, I guess it does. So you can create little things, but not really big things because it would be too large to hold in your psyche. I got it. But why did you bring in a computer?"

"So I could show you this," he answered as he opened up the laptop and flicked the power switch on the side. The computer lept into life and the bright blue desktop soon filled the screen. On the desktop, there was a single icon, an mpeg movie. Chris's fingers slid across the touch-pad that the base of the laptop and he brought the selection arrow up to the movie icon. With a flick of his fingers, the movie was enlarged and brought to the full screen.

The movie showed a man sitting behind a desk that was crowded with papers. A little placard that read "CEO Muller" sat on the desk. The man was well groomed and appeared to be in his mid forties.

"Here at SynCo, we have been participating in cerebral research over the last decade and have been the leading producer of tangible, reliable results. Well, we have finally found the way to tap the human mind and unleash its full potential. Through extensive experimentation we have developed a way to produce artificially enhanced human beings. I am sure that you may be thinking, 'this guys is nuts' well, let me show you what we mean," the man on video pressed a button on his desk and the screen changed to show a shirtless man standing completely still. There was a loud pop and a flash of light. The man had been shot in the chest. There was a telltale hole that was bleeding slightly. But, just like Claire's bullet wounds, the bleeding stopped almost immediately and the bullet fell out of the wound. The hole then proceeded to close and the man giving two thumbs up. The video switched back to the man in the suit coat behind the desk. "Amazing isn't it. And no, that video was not doctored in any way. Here, watch it again," he said as the screen split into four separate parts, each showing the clip from different angles. The video went back to the man.

"Now think about this, if you were waging a war, wouldn't it be helpful if you had an army full of super soldiers that couldn't be stopped by mere bullets. Think of all that could be done. A single battalion of soldiers that had abilities such as this could completely change the course of a war. Now, the reason that SynCo is presenting this information is now become clearer is it not? One soldier such as the one you just saw can be purchased for three hundred thousand dollars, plus a salary of seventy-five thousand dollars a year. This might sound somewhat steep, but when you do the math, it actually comes out somewhat cheaper than maintaining an army of normal human beings. For normal men you must pay for medical attention, advanced machinery such as tanks and jets that cost several millions to produce just one. This video that you are watching is also being sent to leaders around the world. The leaders of the US, Britain, Iran, Iraq, North and South Korea, China, Russia and many other private organizations will be viewing this. You wouldn't want to be left out now would you? Orders must be placed soon, for limited quantities of these amazing supersoldiers remain. Thank you and goodnight," the man concluded.

Claire sat there in shock.

"How did they find out how to do that," she managed to stutter.

"They learned it from you Claire. That is why you woke up in that containment facility. You have been there for little less than a month. You were captured during Project Firestorm. They learned it all from you. The reason I am showing this to you is that you must prevent this from happening. In several months, a world war will start over these biologically enhanced supersoldiers. They will find out that they can be killed and the world powers will try and destroy their enemies' stores of enhanced humans. Millions will perish and the world will fall into complete disarray. All of this will happen, unless you stop it from happening. You will find yourself having to make a choice, a choice that you will not want to make, but one that is for the good of mankind. This is your personal arbitration, and I can only wish you good luck," as soon as the words escaped his lips, Claire was thrown into utter darkness.

**January 5th, 2005**

Claire fell onto the cold hard metal floor of the airship. When she looked up, Chris was nowhere to be found. She jolted up to her feet and started to walk back into the cargo hold when she tripped and fell back to the ground. When she looked to see what she tripped on, all that was there was a combat knife that had been stuck into the floor; a combat knife that bore the head a lion. Claire grabbed the knife and walked out into the cargo bay, where everyone was up on his or her feet, with firearms raised. Connor asked, "Are you ok? We heard a shout and a thud from the room; we were just going to see what happened."

"I'm fine, I just tripped," Claire informed. There was a communal sigh and every returned to ease. Claire approached Connor and asked him, "Have you seen Chris anywhere?" just to receive a raised eyebrow.

"Chris? Who is Chris?" he asked with a puzzled look.

"No one, forget about it," she answered, returning to her thoughts. She ran the events through her mind. _Was all that just happened a dream? Did I just make Chris up in my mind? What about the choice that he was talking about, and the supersoldiers? Was it all just a dream? No, it couldn't have been, it was too real to be. _

Claire's thoughts were cut short when Norris's booming voice resounded throughout the plane's hull.

"Get ready guys. We will be over the drop zone in about 40 seconds. Hustle!" he commanded.

Claire sprinted over to her pack and tied it to one of the snowmobiles. She then put on her parachute, helmet, altimeter and goggles and waited at the drop door with everyone else.

"We have been over how to do this a million times. Jump, teacup position, wait for 2000 feet, and pull the ripcord," Norris reiterated just before he opened up the door.

"Remember, we are meeting at the house," he shouted over the wind.

Samantha stepped up and leapt out of the plane and into the cold winter air. Carlos went next, followed by Connor whose "Yee-Haw!" could be heard even over the roar of the engines and the wind. Claire stepped up to the open door and jumped out of the plane just as she had in basic training so many times.

The wind whipped around her as she positioned herself into the shape of a teacup, with her belly facing the earth. She waited and waited, checking the altimeter every few moments until she reached the desired height of 2000 feet above the ground and gave the ripcord a tug.

The parachute unfolded from the pack and grabbed onto the air, slowing her decent. She pulled the strings, slowly bringing herself into a decent aimed right for the open area by the house that Samantha and Carlos had already reached. They were standing about three hundred feet away from the house trying to get Connor untangled from his parachute when Claire touched down in a picture perfect landing. She undid her parachute and brought it over to the snowmobiles that had paradropped with the squad. She folded the parachute up and put her pack on.

Claire then walked over to the where the SEAL's were gathering. It was a large rock, which was out of the view of the house. Ed had already gotten there since he had landed closer to it than Claire did.

"Ok guys," Ed whispered, "Intel has told us that no one lives in that house up on the ridge, however, I think that we need to be careful when we approach it. We need a volunteer to go in first," Norris informed.

No one volunteered. Claire thought to herself, _of course no one is going to volunteer, its dangerous._ Norris shook his head and said in a very stern voice, "Claire, if no one will volunteer, you are going in first followed by Sandoval."

Connor stepped forward, "I'll go in first sir, let me go instead of Claire."

Norris turned to Claire, "Is that good with you?"

Claire opened her mouth to say "yes" but she stopped herself halfway. "No, I'll to go first," she muttered.

Connor's mouth fell open, "Are you sure?" he asked her.

"One hundred percent."

"Alright then, lets go," said Norris

Claire walked up to the side of the windowless building, staying as quiet as a mouse. Carlos followed up behind her. She slowly walked closer and closer to the door, and Carlos stayed right up behind her. The rest of the team stood about four feet behind them. She reached the door, looked back to Sandoval, who gave an encouraging nod, and turned the handle on the door.

She stepped in to the musty room, M4 raised. Her eyes swept across the room, landing on a blinking red light a few feet away from her.

"BOMB!" she yelled out to Carlos as she made out the shape of petite C4 plastic explosive. Carlos turned and started to run, but Claire remained motionless.

"_NOW CLAIRE NOW! NOW IS YOUR TIME!" _Claire heard Chris' voice resound through her head. Claire focused on the small bomb and used her mind to pull it into her open hands. She ran as far as the cords would allow the bomb to go and she squatted down, pulling the bomb up to her chest. The blinking red light stopped and the bomb went off. The building was engulfed in the explosion, the door was shot of the hinges and it sent Norris sprawling as it slammed into his back. The whole team was pushed down into the snow from the concussive force of the blast

Claire fell to her side, her sides and her stomach bleeding profusely from the tears that ran up and down her body. A smile somehow found its way to Claire's face.

"_Good choice Claire, good choice,_" she told herself as she slowly lost feeling in her legs and arms. Her body felt warm, even though it was extremely cold, and she felt small sense of happiness flow through her body. The room grew brighter and brighter until she couldn't make out any of its features anymore. A man slowly appeared out of the light. He walked over to Claire and picked her up in his arms. He was tanned and muscled. He also had a dark brown beard that matched his hair that hung about his shoulders. His hands were calloused, but soft at the same time. The man smelled of wood dust and he spoke softly to Claire as he started to walk.

"Good job Claire, good job."

"Wait, where are we going?" she whispered, not really caring, just as long as he stayed with her.

The man smiled and brushed a lock of her dark hair away from her eyes.

"We are going home Claire, we are going home."


End file.
